Skin Diving
by eden alice
Summary: 'And she could lose herself in the gentle sway of the tied, the softness of his eyes and the warm crookedness of his smile.' A trippy Carla story.


Skin Diving

If she closes her eyes she could almost hear the rhythmic power of the tide, feel the cool foamy water reach her toes before pulling back again. And she thinks that she would like to stay in this place forever. It doesn't matter that she's just shut in a impersonal looking office doing seemingly never ending paperwork (the hot sun beating down against her skin making it glisten), trying to ignore the slight chill in the air because the air conditioning seemed to have decided to work extra hard. Her business partner (friend/lover/brother-in-law/god knows what else) chatting happily away in the seat opposite her (perfect position to play battle ships or monopoly).

He doesn't seem to notice the way she doesn't reply and watches him a little too closely. If he does notice he does not acknowledge her intense gaze (got to remember to blink). His hair falls against his forehead when he bows his head to write something down and while her fingers twitch to brush the dark strands away she is too content to move. A private smile curls the corners of his mouth and she wishes she could share his thoughts, wishes she could be supported by the sturdy foundations of him and sink further into everything he is (was).

There are figures on the paper in front of her that she can't quite understand (sand slipping though her fingers, scratching the delicate skin of her thighs) and someone cackles in the background (Janice, most likely Janice). There is a pen in between her fingers but she has no memory of picking it up. She was meant to be writing something down, something important, probably related to the hieroglyphic symbols on the paper that she had a strong suspicion she was supposed to understand. And yet it didn't matter. The answers were not important and would come in their own time (with the mysterious strength of the waves) and for once she was not in any rush. For once she was content (sewing machines a distant wall of noise, far, far away).

She thinks he calls her name enjoying the way his tongue wraps around it and how sounds (how it should sound). And he is looking up at her with a warm teasing expression that makes his eyes sparkle.

"What's got into you today? You are far too quiet."

She's almost confused by the question. Nothing has changed with her, it was the world around her that seemed to have made a momentous shift but she did not have the words to explain why this was better. Instead she smiles and shrugs. Her cheeks tingle and she brings her fingers to the fullness of her lips, it feels strange and right and she can not remember the last time she (genuinely) smiled.

He laughs at her bewilderment and for a moment they stare at each other with matching expressions. The moment seems to hang in the air; it stretches before her till it is all she can see. For once there is not even any tension between them. They are not arguing or pre-occupied (years of history and a present that normally aches so much). There did not even seem to be the added pressure of aggravating layers of sexual tension.

This, she thinks, this is a moment, a feeling she wants to keep forever. To tattoo it upon the tender flesh of her heart and cradle it forever. And she could lose herself in the gentle sway of the tied, the softness of his eyes and the warm crookedness of his smile. The skin on her arms pimples in the coldness of the air but she can still feel the suns warmth against her face.

"Come on Car' we need to get this finished before the deadline for the order." He urges her with a gentle kick under the desk but he is still grinning at her in a way that makes her think he feels the same pleasant strangeness she does.

"It doesn't matter." She hears the words fall from her lips, lazy and slow. It doesn't matter because nothing past the current moment seemed to count (wrong, lies slipping through her fingers like the grains of sand she tries to grip too tightly). She would not compromise the peace that was still so new.

"It doesn't matter." He echoes, brow drawn together in confusion and she can tell she's amusing him again.

"It doesn't matter." She hears herself say again and there is a tightness in her voice now. A note of pensiveness that was not there before, she frowns trying to identify it.

There is a new pressure building inside or maybe the ache was already there (how could she ever forget) and she had not realised. But Liam's still looking at her as if there is nothing possibly wrong in the world and she wants so much to believe him but the tide had shifted without her consent (heavy waves roaring against the shore matching the beat of her heart).

It is all very confusing, a nagging feeling that she can't seem to suppress. A drop of water lands on the paper in front of her, ink blurring into even more of an indecisive mess. She breaks eye contact to watch it, florescent lights shine through the small drop and if she stares long enough maybe there would be a miniature rainbow.

Another drop falls.

A single glance skywards and she notices the roof is leaking (she should already know that).

A silent 'oh' falls from her lips and she looks back down and he is still looking at her with that teasing smile. He holds the expression too long and it starts to look forced and tight, like a mask and he is not really with her any more. She could not repress a shiver (it's all in your head; you are the one who is wrong).

A new anger starts to bubble inside and it is familiar and fills her with dread and she can almost feel the rain washing everything she has (had) away. Feel thunder tear at her ears. Somehow the events of her life have been chronicled by an affinity with the weather (torrential rain and she can't see where she's driving anymore. All she knows is that Liam's dead and it is because of her).

With a sudden sense of nausea she feels like she doesn't fit in this world anymore but it is her factory (Paul's factory). And oh god she doesn't want to let go because nothing will ever be as perfect as this. Somehow she knows is she lets this Liam go she won't ever find him again and she loves him so much.

The queasiness was sudden and strong and it came with a deep seated sense of dread. In a lighting bolt of firing neurons she knows, knows this is not forever (cast adrift in a dark and lonely ocean) but even if it is just a simple fantasy it feel real and it is more than she could ever wish for. It was everything she ever needed and everything she could never have.

"Liam." She called him eyes wide and bright with un-cried tears. It's all she can say to communicate her desperation.

And maybe this was all too good to be real because he reacts in just the way she craved even if it did make her heart convulse painfully in her chest. The look of slight amusement melted from his face and was replaced with his brow knotting together in concern. He rose silently bar the scrap of his chair against the floor as he pushed it back.

Instantly he was in front of her, turning her chair so that her nose was inches away from his chest before he gently pulled her to her feet. She'd never admit it (but maybe she could because it was not like any of this was real. It was not as if he would ever know how much she needed him) but she found his protective dominance over her comforting.

When his arms circled her shoulders, pulling her flat against him a horrible strangled sob escaped from its tight restraints. She was acutely aware of his hands as they moved in soothing patterns across her back, the thin material of her silk blouse offering little protection against his touch. Her head automatically pressed against his throat. He was wearing a crinkled shirt with the first few buttons undone and her lips were against the pulse beating steadily beneath his skin (alive, so alive).

He's warmth surrounded her and for a moment she was safe because she could smell and taste him and she was home (an eventfully warm night and she can only catch a glimpse of him through the medics and his family but it is enough to make out his pale stillness and her legs give out before she can move any closer).

He kisses the top of her head, shocked into silence by her uncharacteristic vulnerability. She indulges herself using the steady beat of him to match her own hiccupped gasps. Her tears slowed but did not stop. The pressure deep within her skull would not let her forget (or remember, or remember to forget) even as she presses her fingers to the solidness of his biceps, feels the strength of taunt muscles and tendons covering solid bone (but he is so much more than the sum of the fragile things he was made from). He felt so real (gripping his shoulders as he skilfully drove her to perfect bliss, his weight a comfort as he pressed her into the mattress).

He shushes her like a child, tells her that everything would be fine with such conviction it took her breath away in shock. The voice did not sound like his. Liam knew enough, had been through enough not to be that naïve anymore. With her face still pressed against his skin she is unable to see his lips move and it seems possible that the voice came from someplace else that was not his throat.

She pushes herself away, the suddenness of her movement enough to separate their tangled limbs with a quick ease. His touch was instantly missed (bereaved because it still burned and taunted and was not enough to lose herself in forever). He stumbles back and although she could read the shock on his features there was something very alien twisting at the handsome planes of his face (tracing her fingers over his too still lips, he was so cold but then this never happened).

She has to look away at anything that is not him and wonders how he manages to fill so much of the room around her.

There is now a small but growing stream of water across her paperwork and the inky letters were moving into some new message of their own accord but she still did not understand (she wouldn't it was not ready yet). Maybe if she waited enough there would be enough water to wash all the make-believe and lies away.

He calls her name again and this time she wants to cover her ears with her hands to black it out. He asks what was wrong and tells her that she was scaring him. But there was something not right (it can never be right because he has already left and now she was alone). His mouth moves a little too late and makes the wrong shapes and she's reminded of the badly dubbed Asian films they used to watch together.

She does not recognise the shrillness of her own laugh even as it fills all the empty space in the room. Fire like rage courses through her veins (like a star going supernova) and she can't remember ever feeling this out of control before (bitter anger and grief had only ever sharpened her resolve). And she wants nothing more than to tear it all down with her fingernails because at least then she can lose it all on her own terms (he was taken from her, taken away by a madman as punishment for her sins).

She wants to hurt the man (thing) standing in front of her because she can't bear that Liam would torments her like this. To seem so real and yet so wrong and leave her so confused. Every shape of his features so perfect it is painfully impossible. And maybe it is irrational but she feels betrayed by the one person she thought she could trust. There are strips of blinding white light entering the room, blinding her when they meet her wide gaze and she knows the world is coming apart at the seams because she did not belong and she'd never be able to stay (everyone she loves leaves eventually).

She is visibly shaking by the time she knocks her chair flying, swiping her desk clean, something crashes loudly and breaks on the floor (like a self fulfilling prophecy, eventually it would all break).

"Fuck, fuck it all, this is not real Liam! You are not real!" She explodes and as she winces at her own screams and lingering sense of hope melts away (flows away with the tide never to be seen again) and she is left with nothing but the feeling of bereavement.

Liam (not Liam or all that Liam never got a chance to be) still watches her even though she knows the real Liam would move. Real Liam would shout or try to restrain her and that makes things easier.

Only now his expression is of horrified concern and she wants to apologise and fall back into his arms as the world cracks around them.

She wants to say goodbye and to tell him that she lied and she loved him with all her heart but the light grew and the water flowed stronger and then he was gone (he would never ever hear the truth from her lips and for that she could not be more sorry).


End file.
